


High Noon

by marashin0



Series: Obi-Wan & Palpatine Father-Son AU [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealousy, Manipulative Relationship, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Obi-Wan Kenobi Leaves the Jedi Order, Sibling Rivalry, Sith AU, Sith family, Young Darth Maul, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, obi-wan and maul are stepbrothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marashin0/pseuds/marashin0
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi meets his rival, a young tattooed Zabrak named Maul.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Maul, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Sheev Palpatine
Series: Obi-Wan & Palpatine Father-Son AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945213
Comments: 21
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case you don’t want to read the previous two entries, here’s a quick rundown: Obi is Palpatine's biological son in this AU. He left the Order after failing his Trials, and has since moved in with his father. As of now, he is still unaware of his Sith heritage. 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine introduces Obi-Wan to Maul, and immediately pits the boys against one another.

“Isn’t he magnificent?”

Obi-Wan glanced up from the book in his lap, written in the flowery dialect of the Naboo. He’d spent the past month in the Lake Country, learning the language, and he was already reading at a remedial level.

His father was standing with his back turned, leaning against an arched window, staring out into the garden. Obi-Wan followed his gaze, frowning at the sight of the red-and-black tattooed Zabrak. At some point in the day, Maul had found the time to fashion a primitive bow and arrow, and he was practicing with it on the front lawn of the Estate, prowling the tall reedy grass and shooting at anything that moved. The Lake Country was teeming with wildlife, so there was no shortage of game.

The Zabrak had only arrived yesterday, and already he was proving to be a disruption. He was on leave from the Orsis Academy - a military school of some sort - but he still maintained a fierce training regiment, waking up at the break of dawn to swim laps in the lake.

Obi-Wan had slept in late this morning, and he suddenly felt very lazy by comparison. This was accompanied by a stirring of jealously, listening to his father wax on about the Zabrak: “So striking. And such a fearsome warrior! He’s saved my life more than once. Truly, I couldn’t ask for a better protector.”

Obi-Wan shut the book with a snap. He wanted to argue - _You have me! I’m your protector. Not Maul -_ but he stopped himself. He had no reason to be jealous of Maul. If anything, he should be grateful to the Zabrak for keeping his father safe. Besides, Maul wasn’t another son he needed to compete with. His father had made that very clear.

The Zabrak had been introduced to Obi-Wan as the senator’s ‘ward’. Obi-Wan knew little of Maul’s personal history, only that he was from the war-torn planet of Dathomir, where Palpatine had rescued him from a lifetime of slavey. And perhaps this explained Maul’s subservient behavior. He refused to look Obi-Wan in the eye, and spoke only when spoken to.

“He’s not very talkative, is he?” Obi-Wan remarked from his seat on the couch. Maul had barely uttered more than two words at last night’s dinner. He seemed terrified to speak out of line or break decorum.

The senator laughed lightly, turning away from the window. He shook his head. “No. Maul is a simple creature. We compliment each other well. I’ve never been one for swordsmanship, myself.”

Obi-Wan pointedly cleared his throat. “I happen know a thing or two about swordsmanship,” he said, trying not to sound too boastful.

“Yes…” The senator started towards him, stroking his cleft chin in thought. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to ask you..." He trailed off for a moment, then said, "Maul is rather curious about you, did you know?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I did catch him staring at me a few times.” He had caught Maul’s eye last night, but the Zabrak was always quick to avert his gaze. “I was beginning to wonder if I had something stuck in my teeth.”

“Forgive him. He’s never met a Jedi before.” 

“Well, I’m not a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, tugging on his newly pierced ear. “Not anymore.” He certainly didn’t look like a Jedi, dressed in an ornate frock coat, his hair pinned back with a jeweled clip. He looked like a spoiled princeling. House Palpatine was among the Royal houses of Naboo, and his father insisted he dress the part.

“But you were trained in the Jedi arts,” the senator pointed out. “I wonder if you might indulge him? As a personal favor to me.”

“Indulge him?”

“He wants to test himself against a Jedi,” the senator explained, lowering himself to sit beside Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan almost dropped the leather-bound book he was holding. “He wants to fight me?”

“You don’t have to,” Palpatine said in a hushed voice. “He is rather fearsome, I admit. And I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind the boy’s ear.

Obi-Wan sat perfectly still. “I’m not afraid of Maul,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even, incensed at the very thought. He’d trained under some of the most illustrious Jedi Masters in galactic history! And even if he wasn’t the greatest duelist, he was more than a match for Maul.

“Good,” the senator said brightly. He sat back, clasping his hands in his lap. “It’s settled then. You’ll have to use a sparring sword, of course. I hope that’s not too much of an inconvenience. After all, it’s not as if I have a spare lightsaber just lying around.” His smiled widened. “Have you ever used a sparring sword before? Or do the Jedi focus solely on lightsaber combat?”

“We’re trained to be proficient in all forms of combat,” Obi-Wan replied smoothly. But inwardly he was worried. It had been years since he’d picked up a sparring sword.

As it turned out, his skills were a tad rusty. He’d grown so accustomed to the fluid grace of lightsaber combat. The brute sparring sword felt heavy and unwieldy in his hand, and his muscles were already beginning to burn from the strain. He was slowing down. He’d spent the past mouth lazing around his father’s Estate, when he should have been training, honing his skills.

Maul had spent every waking moment practicing, and it showed. The Zabrak was in peak physical condition, swinging a double-bladed staff, which he had evidently built for himself. He wielded it with expert speed and precision, staggering Obi-Wan under the strength of his blows.

As a Padawan, Obi-Wan’s fighting style had been criticized as “overly aggressive”, but that was no longer the case. He was off-balance, falling back into his Soresu stance, deflecting and parrying one furious blow after another. He would tire himself out at this rate. Soresu was meant to outlast any opponent, but the Zabrak’s stamina was inhuman, and his attacks were truly vicious. Was he always this battle-crazed, or was he just showing off for the senator?

The two boys were fighting in the courtyard, Palpatine casually observing from the balcony above. Obi-Wan grit his teeth. He was not about to lose in front of his father. Evidently, Maul was of a similar mind. The Zabrak doggedly pressed his advantage, backing Obi-Wan into a corner. He snarled, amber eyes flashing in triumph as he raised his staff for the final blow.

Obi-Wan froze. In the interest of fighting fair, he had - thus far - refrained from using the Force. Now all thoughts of “fairness” fled his mind, and he instinctively lashed out with a powerful Force push, hurling Maul back across the courtyard and into a wrought iron trellis.

He staggered to his feet, breathing heavily, as Maul violently thrashed to free himself from the the tangled vines. The Zabrak let out a demonic howl. He charged at Obi-Wan, eyes blazing, blood streaking from a deep gash on his forehead.

“ _Maul_.” The cold voice from above stopped the Zabrak in his tracks. “That’s enough of that.” Both of the combatants turned, glancing up in unison. The senator was standing by the rail of the baloney, idly drumming his fingers on the banister. For a long moment he said nothing, and all that could be heard was the sound of ragged breathing coming from below. Then he dismissed Maul with a wave. “Go wash up, the pair of you,” he said, nodding to Obi-Wan. The boy watched as he abruptly turned, retreating back into his study without a second glance.

“Father,” Obi-Wan began, tentatively, “has Maul ever shown any signs of being Force-sensitive?” He was thinking back on their duel. He’d been ruminating on it all afternoon. Now it was late in the evening, and he was traipsing behind the senator, accompanying the man on his nightly stroll through the hedge garden.

Palpatine slowed to a stop. “What makes you say that?” He asked with a shy, sidelong glance, his eyes half-lidded in the pale moonlight. 

A fog was beginning to roll in off the lake. Obi-Wan crossed his arms, shivering. His hair was still damp from his bath. It hung loose around his face. “His strength, his speed… Its unnatural.”

The senator tilted his head in thought. “Zabraks are naturally more athletic,” he said with a faint shrug.

“Yes, I’m well aware,” Obi-Wan huffed.

His father smirked, reaching out to pluck a milky white blossom from an overhanging tree branch. “What did you think of Maul’s fighting prowess?” He asked lightly, twirling the blossom by the stem.

“He’s better than me,” Obi-Wan said after a pause. Although it galled him to admit this. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at the buckles on his shoes.

The senator raised a brow. “You think so?”

“You saw… I could barely hold my own…”

“You were holding back,” came the simple response. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but the senator held up a hand. “You refrained from using the Force. Why? You’re a Force-user. So why not use it?”

Obi-Wan didn’t argue that point. He had refrained from using the Force, but only out of a sense of fairness. “What I mean to say is, Maul is a much better fighter-“

His father sighed. “Maul is a primitive creature, and swords are primitive tools. You should focus on honing your skill in the Force.”

But Obi-Wan was adamant. “I shouldn’t need to rely on the Force to win a duel,” he said stubbornly. 

“Its not good to be overly reliant on anything,” his father said in agreement. “But that doesn’t mean you should deny your true nature. The Force is a part of you - as it is a part of me,” he added softly.

Obi-Wan exhaled a sharp breath. Was that a confession? He stared at the senator, as if seeing him for the first time. “Father, are you…? Can you feel the Force as well?” It made sense. Force-sensitivity was often genetic, and the senator was eerily perceptive at times.

In answer to his son’s question, the senator unfurled his hand and gracefully levitated the small white blossom. It hung in the air, absolutely still, for a surreal moment, and then fell back into his waiting palm. Obi-Wan was too stunned to speak.

“You must promise not to say anything,” his father whispered, grasping Obi-Wan by the arm and pulling him deeper into the moonlit garden.

“I promise,” Obi-Wan said numbly. He almost stumbled over his feet. “But why? Why keep it a secret?”

The senator let out a pained sigh. He pressed a hand to his forehead. “My father, Cosinga, used to frighten me with stories about the Jedi. He said they would steal me from my bed, unless I kept it a secret.”

“You’re not a child anymore,” Obi-Wan said, gently teasing.

“No. But his advice was sound. People fear what they don’t understand, and rightly so. Do you think the people of Naboo would want me as their representative, if they knew the truth?” Maybe? Obi-Wan wasn’t sure. “I could be charged with an ethics violation,” Palpatine said in harried tone. “Of using the Force to manipulate my political rivals. And then there’s the Jedi-“

Obi-Wan interrupted him, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. “But why didn’t you tell _me_?”

“I wanted to,” his father said with a sad smile. “But I was afraid you wouldn’t trust me.”

“Why wouldn’t I trust you? I’ve lived around Force-sensitives my entire life. I am Force-sensitive, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You’ve lived around _Jedi_.”

Obi-Wan paused. There it was again. The way his father almost sneered the word “Jedi”.

“Do you not like the Jedi?” Obi-Wan asked, curious.

The senator laced their arms together, leaning against the boy as they resumed their leisurely stroll through the garden. “I like you, and you’re a Jedi,” he said, dodging the question.

Obi-Wan stopped short. “That’s not an answer.”

Palpatine sighed in defeat. “Fine,” he bit out. “It’s not that I don’t like them. But my own personal philosophy is intrinsically at odds with the Jedi.” His smile became strained. “And that’s really all I have to say about it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that night, Obi-Wan goes looking for trouble.

Obi-Wan couldn’t sleep. He paced restlessly, wandering the empty, moonlit halls of his father’s ancestral home, lost in thought, until he found himself in what was once the servants’ quarters, standing at the door of Maul’s room. Palpatine had retired early for bed, cutting their conversation in the garden short, but Obi-Wan sensed the Zabrak was still awake. He had not seen Maul since their duel in the courtyard, some twelve hours ago. 

His father had warned him against speaking to Maul, but Obi-Wan could not contain his curiosity. He still had questions, and he suspected the Zabrak knew more than he let on. He reached out a hand, hesitating a moment. Then, without bothering to knock, he eased the door open and slipped inside, pausing on the threshold as his eyes adjusted to the dim gloom of the Zabrak’s living space.

The room that greeted him was rather bare, with only a cot for a bed, a small nightstand, and a cluttered workbench littered with droid parts. A weapons rack was pushed against the far wall, a modest collection of swords and daggers gleaming on display. The double-bladed staff was snapped in two and strewn in pieces on the floor. And there, atop the bedside table, was what appeared to be the hilt of a lightsaber, sheathed inside a leather casing.

He turned to address the dark figure silently observing him from the shadows. “So you _are_ Force-sensitive.” His father had refused to comment on Maul, even after revealing his own Force-sensitivity. “And you’ve been trained to use a lightsaber, apparently.” This seemed to confirm Obi-Wan’s suspicion.

The Zabrak said nothing, steadily watching Obi-Wan from the side of his eye as he bent to retrieve his saber, clipping it to his belt. He wore a plain black tunic over a matching set of leggings, his red feet bare against the carpet.

Obi-Wan stared at him in disbelief. “Can’t you talk?”

“I have nothing to say to you, Jedi.” Obi-Wan had never heard Maul speak more than a few words, and he was surprised by the soft, smooth cadence of his voice.

“I’m not a Jedi,” he protested, tensing as Maul swung to face him.

The Zabrak leered at him with bloodshot eyes. “You fight like a Jedi,” he said, baring his teeth in a feral challenge. “Clumsy, weak-“

“I beat you, didn’t I?”

Maul let out a low growl. His hand twitched at his side, reaching for the hilt of his saber. The other instinctively flew to the collar he wore about his neck, a thin metal band etched with red runes. Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed it before. The red markings blended seamlessly with the Zabrak’s skin. He stood back, watching as Maul groped helplessly at his throat. “Is that a Force collar?” He asked in morbid fascination. Even standing at a distance of some feet, Obi-Wan could feel the cold, dampening effect of the collar. He’d heard about such devices, of course.

He thought back to their fight. Had Maul been collared the entire time?

“Can’t you take it off?” He asked nervously.

The Zabrak was clawing wildly at his throat, blunt nails digging into his own flesh. The fiery red runes flickered in warning, and the collar tightened in response, twisting and coiling like a snake. Maul gasped for breath, tugging at the metal band. Finally, he let his hand drop to his side. The collar was still fastened around his neck, gleaming in the dim light. It loosened ever so slightly, permitting the Zabrak to breath.

Obi-Wan leaned closer to make sense of the blood-red symbols. He reached out. “Here, let me see-“

“Don’t touch me,” Maul snarled, shoving him back several paces. Obi-Wan stumbled, but didn’t fall. “This does not concern you, Jedi.”

“Stop calling me that,” Obi-Wan snapped. He used to take pride in being a Jedi, but Maul made the word sound like a slur. “I’m trying to help you.”

The Zabrak glared at him, amber-yellow eyes flashing, burning with wild, untamed hatred. “I don’t need your help,” he said, tearing his gaze away. He shifted in place, turning his back to Obi-Wan. His shoulders were tense. “I told him I wouldn’t hurt you,” he spoke in a slow, measured voice, “but you are testing my patience. Leave.”

Him?

“My father, you mean?” Obi-Wan stared at the back of Maul’s neck, frowning at the sight of the Force collar. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “The collar..." He trailed off, almost too afraid to ask. "Did my father...? Did _he_ do that-" Before he could finish, Maul whirled on him, brandishing a small dagger in his hand. Obi-Wan opened his mouth, hoping to placate the Zabrak. “I will speak to my father about this,” he said, stumbling backwards as Maul advanced on him. "I can't believe he would do such a thing-"

The Zabrak grabbed him roughly by the shirt and shoved him out into the hall, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short follow-up chapter. Next part will be posted in a few days.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has a revealing conversation with his father.

“Speak to me about what?”

The hour was late, but the senator was sitting up in bed, skimming through the messages on his datapad. He was clearly visible by the light of the moon, a ray of silver that streamed in through the balcony window, bathing the master bedroom in a soft, pale glow.

“About Maul…” Obi-Wan said, hesitating at the door. The floor creaked as he stepped inside, his footsteps muffled on the thick carpet. He paused in place, glancing around at the decor. The senator was very private, and Obi-Wan had never been invited into his bedroom.

His father didn’t seem bothered by the interruption, however. “What about him?” He asked in a distracted voice, only half-listening, absorbed in whatever he was reading. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy with lack of sleep, flitting over the screen of his datapad.

Obi-Wan felt himself relax slightly. He crossed the room in a few short strides, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. His father looked eerily pale in the dim light, propped against the headboard, draped in a plain, silky black robe. Obi-Wan stared down at him and cleared his throat, breaking the still silence. “You put a Force collar on him,” he stated, holding his breath as he waited for a reply.

Palpatine glanced up from his datapad. “Yes,” he said simply.

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was almost too faint to be heard. “Why?”

The senator leaned back with a weary sigh, lifting his head to appraise Obi-Wan with a long, shrewd look. He stared, unblinking. There was a sharp glint in his eye that faded as quickly as it came. His face softened. “I can’t risk him hurting you, now can I?” He said, pressing his lips in a thin, worried line.

Obi-Wan was surprised by this. He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the mattress, gripping the hem of his nightshirt. “Why would he hurt me?”

“Must you ask that? He’s threatened by you, of course.”

Obi-Wan fell silent. It had never occurred to him that Maul might be jealous of him. He struggled to form a response. “I don’t think he poses any danger…” But even as he said this, he knew it to be a lie.

Palpatine scoffed. He tossed his datapad aside and straightened up to give the boy his full attention. “You don’t think?” He said, staring at Obi-Wan with his brow raised. “Maul is a trained killer, of course he’s dangerous. I’ve instilled in him the importance of obedience, but he’s still an animal at heart. You would do well to remember that. He would rip your throat out if he could.”

Obi-Wan paled slightly. He thought back to his most recent encounter with the Zabrak. There had been such anger, such _hatred_ in his eyes. Hatred directly solely at him, at Obi-Wan. “But really, father. A Force collar? It seems so cruel,” he protested.

“Its not a punishment,” his father said in a soft voice. “It’s merely another facet of his training.”

“His training?”

“The Mandalorians fought the Jedi for centuries, largely without the use of the Force. I was curious to see if Maul could do the same.”

“I’m not a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, repeating the words from earlier.

The senator seemed pleased by this admission. “No.” He smiled gently. “You are my son.”

Obi-Wan made a soft, strangled noise in the back of his throat. This man was his father. He’d been living with the senator for over a month, but that simple fact still surprised him at times. He lowered his gaze, blinking through a sheen of unshed tears. “Did you know that Maul was Force-sensitive when you found him on Dathomir? Is that why you took him in?” He asked curiously. It occurred to him that Force-sensitives outside the Order might gravitate towards one another. His expression darkened, hot tears spilling over. If only his father had found _him_ instead of Maul. He felt a sudden rush of bitterness towards the Zabrak, as if Maul had personally robbed him of his childhood.

The senator’s deep voice broke through his thoughts: “Yes. I sensed a kinship with the Zabrak, and took him as my own. I saved Maul from a childhood of slavery. It only pains me that I was not able to do the same for you.”

Obi-Wan snapped his head up. “You can’t think that,” he said, aghast. His cheeks were flushed and stained with tears. “Father, please! The Jedi are many things, but they’re not slavers.” Is that what his father thought? No wonder he didn’t like the Order.

“No?” The senator eyed him doubtfully, a faint sneer on his thin face. “They separate newborns from their families and raise them to be child soldiers. What would you call that?” He asked in a rhetorical tone.

“The Jedi are peacekeepers, not soldiers,” Obi-Wan said quickly, feeling some obligation to defend his old Order.

Palpatine hummed in thought. “I find it strange that ‘peacekeepers’ would place such an emphasis on lightsaber combat,” he mused.

Obi-Wan gaped at his father, suddenly at a loss for words. His mind raced. He couldn’t argue that point. He didn’t want to argue, but he was so wound up with emotion. “Who trained Maul to use a lightsaber?” He demanded, still fixated on the Zabrak.

“I did,” came the smooth reply.

“You?” He wanted to laugh. It was difficult to imagine his father wielding any sort of weapon, let alone a lightsaber. But then, the same could be said of Master Yoda. “I thought you didn’t like swordplay?” Obi-Wan said, thinking back to their earlier conversation.

“I don’t.”

“What forms did you teach him?” Obi-Wan asked, still unconvinced.

Palpatine turned his head to meet the boy’s gaze. “Maul is proficient in all forms of lightsaber combat,” he said, smiling thinly, a sliver of pride in his voice, “but he favors Juyo.” Obi-Wan searched his face. Either the senator was a very talented liar, or he was telling the truth.

“Maul is proficient in all seven forms?” He said dumbly. A part of him still couldn’t believe it. Few Jedi could claim such a feat. Growing up in the Temple, Obi-Wan had been encouraged to focus on a single form. He was still struggling to master the basics of Soresu.

“Seven?” The senator winkled his brow, feigning confusion. “Are you forgetting about Dun Möch?”

“I—I’ve never heard of that,” Obi-Wan stuttered. He received a pitying look in return.

“No, I imagine you haven’t.”

Obi-Wan was suddenly on his feet, shivering with a cold sweat. His eyes were bright and searching. “Can you teach me?” He asked, his voice trembling with excitement. He began to pace the carpet. It was almost too much to hope for. All he had ever wanted was to hone his skills, to prove himself!

And when the senator nodded in subtle affirmation, Obi-Wan felt like his heart might burst. “I could…” He said, observing the boy closely. “But you mustn’t feel you need to compete with Maul for my affection. You know I love you just as you are.”

Obi-Wan stopped short, his shoulders tense, hands clenched at his sides. He bit back a growl. Hearing his father say the Zabrak’s name sparked something in him. Could he compete with Maul? The Zabrak was obviously years ahead of him in terms of training, but Obi-Wan had always been a quick study. At the very least he was smarter than Maul, who was little more than a dumb brute. His father had said so, and Maul had done nothing to dissuade Obi-Wan of this notion. Obi-Wan had reached out a hand, and the vicious animal had attacked him. He deserved to wear that collar.

“I want to learn,” he said, fiercely determined. More than that, he longed for a deeper connection. He turned, staring boldly at the senator. “I want _you_ to teach me.” That was really at the heart of it. He wanted to form a sacred training bond with his father.

His Master.


End file.
